


The Score

by crowsaerie



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Non-Graphic Violence, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:35:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23329357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowsaerie/pseuds/crowsaerie
Summary: (WARNING: SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS AHEAD)The Warrior of Light has tracked down the still-living Zenos yae Galvus, aiming to put him down once and for all. Yet she gets more than she bargains for, and must suffer the consequences.
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Kudos: 10





	1. Perilous

**Author's Note:**

> My first AO3 work!

She had come upon him somewhere in the distant reaches of Gyr Abania. Armed and ready, she expected a fight.

“There you are, my friend. My enemy. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Ithlinne could not believe what she was seeing. Before her stood a man who, by all rights, should have been dead. A dire enemy that had come to stand above them all. A man who had dared to call himself her friend.

Zenos yae Galvus.

It was not the fact that he was still standing which surprised her. She had already known him to have come back to life, as per Estinien’s report. She expected this. But the power that bristled at his fingertips, all but invisible to the naked eye, was felt keenly by her sensitivity to aether. And the strange, violet sheen to his eyes, which she could see even from the distance between them, had struck a primal part of her that shook her to her very core. What was this? Fear? Excitement? She could hardly tell them apart anymore.

“What have you done?” Ithlinne found herself speaking before she could even think, her voice hoarse and shaken. Her hand gripped the hilt of her sword, still sheathed at her hip.

Zenos smiled. It was an ugly, bestial grin.

“I have become the ultimate hunter.” He answered, his arms spread wide in a grand display. “And again,” he pointed at her, “I give you the honor of being my prey.”

Ithlinne, too, had bared her teeth. But not out of joy.

And this pleased him.

“Lyse was right,” she spoke unsteadily; aloud, but to herself, “you are a rabid animal.”

He watched as she drew her blade and settled into a guarded stance. Already she was willing to fight. Good.

“Once and for all, I will put you down!”

Without warning, Ithlinne leapt at Zenos. Blade in hand, she struck in a wide arc aimed for his neck. Of course, he wouldn’t simply allow her the kill. That wouldn’t tempt her at all. He effortlessly parried her blow, and the two stood mere feet apart. From here, she could see plainly the dark, purple glow that emanated from his irises. Her own eyes widened, yet before she could investigate further, she was struck back a great distance.

Ithlinne skidded along the rocky ground, steadying herself as she slowed, her balance never erring. After a brief moment, she launched herself at him yet again, pressing the attack with several thrusts of her blade- each struck aside by his own. As much as she wanted answers, she did not want to give him time to talk. Further still, she was having difficulty piercing his defenses. It seemed he, too, had been preparing for this moment.

But of course he had.

He did not fall for her feints. He blocked and parried her every strike. Her advances were not met with retreats, her pauses not met with attacks. Was he merely toying with her, now?

All the while, he maintained unwavering eye contact. And she hated it.

“Surely by now, you must understand.” He taunted her.

Up until then, she had mostly avoided his gaze, instead focusing on the movements- or lack thereof- of his blade. But finally, she focused on his face. That stare…

It was not unlike the eyes of a Resonant, eyes which he had shown to her before- but this time it was different.

The whites of his eyes were an abyssal black, the irises a dull purple.

Before she could take another second to think, he had begun his attack. A single swipe of his blade edged her off her feet, and she tumbled back, hitting the earth hard. The wind was knocked from her, but her blade was still gripped tightly in her hand. “See you now, the power of an eikon among eikons?” She heard him as he drew close. Ithlinne raised her weapon quickly, blocking a downward strike as it fell upon her. “I have drank deep of his primordial aether,” he continued, “and become hunter anew!” She held him back with all that she could muster, and still she felt her muscles failing her. The last time he could hit her this hard, she had only just met him in the ruin of Rhalgr’s Reach. Only this was somehow worse.

A blast of aether released from her palm gave her the space needed to right herself. It was her turn to go on the defensive as Zenos advanced upon her, slicing the air relentlessly. Ithlinne found that she could still parry his strikes, much to her relief, but with each blow came a ringing ache that traveled through the length of her arm. She was quickly growing tired…

“You know now, don’t you, that you cannot win like this?”

So too, it seemed, was he tired. Tired of her. After a series of swipes at her weapon, Zenos finally struck it aside, the sword flying from her grasp and landing many feet away. Ithlinne gasped in pain, clutching her wrist as the attack had bent it too far. She could not defend herself from his next strike.

But instead of his blade, he used his foot, kicking her directly in the kneecap so that it shattered.

Her eyes went wide and she loosed a haggard cry, crumpling to her knees and falling on her side. She could hardly breathe anymore. Ithlinne dug her hands into the earth, pushing herself up just enough to look at him- to see his gleaming, bloodthirsty, inhuman eyes. She doubled over, lowering her head to the looming Zenos, as pain shot through her leg. She couldn’t stand. She couldn’t flee.

“I expected better of you, but it seems I have surpassed you by far.” He remarked dryly, sheathing his blade. Was he not going to strike the killing blow?

She had little time to wonder, as a brilliant, red, aetheric bloom flashed in the air above his head. Zenos leapt back, away from Ithlinne, and soon she was swarmed by her allies. How had they gotten there, so far from civilization that he believed they wouldn’t be bothered? It didn’t matter. By the look in his dear enemy’s eyes, he had accomplished this task.

Ithlinne felt arms beneath her, and soon she was off the ground. Somewhere in the line of her sight, she spotted two small figures: Alisaie and Alphinaud, weapons drawn and readied for battle. To her immediate right stood Y'shtola, her staff in hand and aether readied. And somewhere behind them, she could hear the jingle of Urianger’s starglobe. Though her vision had grown blurry, she could see the outline of Thancred’s face nearby, as all the while he kept his eyes on Zenos.

“Go, hero.” He said, waving a dismissive hand. He would not even address the Scions, who had come to protect her. “Feast on your Mothercrystal’s aether. Become the ultimate warrior.

Then we will settle the score.”

They did not wait for him to finish, already departing the scene with haste. Ithlinne hung near-limp in Thancred’s arms, until at last blackness overtook her vision.


	2. Collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ithlinne attempts to recover from her wound while coming up with a plan. Eventually, she is overwhelmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff in this one!

Ithlinne laid restless on her sickbed in the spare room of the Rising Stones. Her leg ached like mad, crying out for attention beneath the wrappings that were meant to hold it in place. However, the pain wasn’t on the forefront of her mind just then. Though it was rare, the Warrior of Light had been humbled before, and this time should be no different. She need only build up her strength and face him again. Right?

Right?

She wasn’t certain, this time. Zenos had feasted on a primal’s aether, this much was true, but he had done so before, and she was able to defeat him. So which one had it been? An eikon among eikons? What did that mean?

Could he possibly have meant… Zodiark?

Ithlinne’s hands traveled to her face, rubbing it roughly out of frustration. She had little time, she believed, to figure out this mystery, and in the state she was in, she was not prepared to face him again. For that matter, she was the Warrior of Light. Why was it that each time she failed, her friends were the ones to pull her out of a sticky situation, and not the other way around? Perhaps Ardbert was right, and she was always a step too slow. Or as Ilberd would say, she was getting sloppy.

More than anything, she wanted to get out of bed. To see her friends, to discuss tactics and possible routes to success. She couldn’t just lay there all the while she was healing. She could not afford to be idle, not with all the weight she bore on her shoulders. She pushed herself upright with some effort, wincing hard as pain shot through her leg. Grateful as she was that it wasn’t bent the wrong way in the attack, it was no less agonizing in its current state. Taking a few shallow breaths, Ithlinne prepared herself for the trial of standing up, something she hadn’t been able to do in about a week.

Slowly, she slipped her legs off the bed, her teeth grit to keep herself from crying out in pain. With her feet flat on the floor, she sucked in air and attempted to stand.

In the common area of the Rising Stones, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn stood around a map lying flat on the round table. Alphinaud took the lead, marking several spots on the map with pins, points where he believed they would find their quarry. Y'shtola sat opposite to him, eyes closed in ponderation, along with Alisaie, who stood by her side and added her input to Alphinaud’s logic. Thancred paced in the room nearby, his hand on his forehead as he considered potential routes of action. How much time did they have? Was there anything they could do while the Warrior of Light was incapacitated? Were the denizens of the First safe?

“If we wait for him here,” Alphinaud gestured to the map, around the war-torn land of Ghimlyt, “it is a likely possibility that we can set up an ambush.”

“And if he’s onto us?” Alisaie questioned, her palms flat on the table as she leaned over it. “How are we certain we will gain an advantage?”

Alphinaud had opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Thancred, “It doesn’t look like there will be any certainty in this scenario, I’m afraid.”

“Indeed.” Chimed Krile, who had come in from the Solar. “Not with the state Ithlinne is in.”

Tataru followed behind her, making her way to the table and climbing into an empty chair. She heaved a sigh once seated, looking utterly consumed by worry. Alphinaud offered her an encouraging smile, but she did not seem to take notice.

“Furthermore,” Krile continued, “even in her best shape, it doesn’t seem as though she was much a match for him.”

“What else can we do?” Said Alisaie, looking exasperated. “Wait around until she’s better and throw her at him again? We must at least come up with a plan.”

“I know, I know. I merely mean to temper expectations. And,” sighed the lalafellin woman, pulling up a stool so that she could see over the table, “if we want to seize the upper hand, I suggest we use some sort of bait.”

“What could he possibly want for now?” Alphinaud pondered.

Y'shtola opened her eyes.

“The Warrior of Light.”

Silence fell over the room as each considered Y'shtola’s words. Then came a grunt.

Beside the door to the bedrooms leaned the lanky form of Estinien, who at last raised his eyes from his feet, leveling his gaze on the Scions.

“I will not have Ithlinne serve as mere bait.”

“Nor would we,” Krile answered, turning towards him, “nor would I believe her to take up such a simple role.”

“Think of her not as bait,” spoke Y'shtola, “but as a wolf waiting to ambush.”

Estinien sighed. Just as he was about to speak, however, a loud, tumbling thump sounded from the bedrooms. Without a pause to wait for the others, he thrust open the door and ventured quickly inside.

He found Ithlinne lying on her side on the floor, propped up slightly by her elbow. Her expression was twisted in pain, eyes shut tightly and teeth grit. Her fist was clenched, and she slammed it on the ground- feebly- as she cursed beneath her breath. Estinien knelt to help her, and she was caught aback by his presence- she clearly hadn’t heard him come in. Her eyes went wide, her brow quivering as she appeared to fight back something, which gave Estinien pause as he lowered himself to her level. When he came closer, she hung her head.

“You can’t…”

He rested a hand on her shoulder, and felt her trembling.

“… you can’t see me like this.”

Estinien frowned, reaching for her chin to guide her eyes back to his. He could see they were reddened around the edges, as though she were fighting back the urge to cry.

“You can be weak with me.”

Ithlinne sniffed, blinking as she looked him in the eye. Blinking again as the tears began to flow…

“Oh, no, don’t..!” She whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.

Without a word, Estinien sat cross-legged on the floor beside her. Gently, he pulled Ithlinne into his lap, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tucking her head beneath his chin. He did nothing else, simply allowing her the moment to vent her emotion, stroking her arm with his free hand as she sobbed silently.  
Ithlinne shut out the world, tears running down her cheeks as she was powerless to stop them. She hadn’t the energy to fight it anymore. Running through her mind were thoughts of her failure- not just her most recent, but of all the times she had failed. Of all the times she had not done enough, not been enough for the people who counted on her. The memories came flooding back, and try as she might to squeeze them out, the faces of the dead were as clear as day in her mind’s eye.

She whimpered, and felt a calloused thumb run down her cheek, brushing away the stream of tears. Lips pressed against her crown, warm breath fluttering over the top of her head. The ache in her chest and the pain in her leg seemed to subside as she focused on his presence. He would not stop her from crying, she soon realized, but he would be there to wipe away the tears.

“Thank you…”

“Shh. Just rest. I am here.”

After a moment, Estinien could hear a soft pattering of footsteps retreating from the door. He grinned faintly, then returned his attention to Ithlinne. There they sat, for a better part of the eve, until at last Estinien insisted that she get back into bed. She happily obliged, on the condition that he’d stay with her for just a moment longer, and he took no trouble with that.


End file.
